The Tribe: East Coast Edition
by K.M Thompson
Summary: This is a story of what happened on the east coast after the Virus struck. Follow five kids as they figure out life, love, destiny and what it means to really grow up. Sorry, no cast members from the original tribe...just original people I've made.
1. Chapter 1

This is a story of what happened on the east coast after the Virus struck. Follow five kids as they figure out life, love, destiny and what it means to really grow up. Sorry, no cast members from the original tribe...just original people I've made. I hope you can all enjoy this and find something to keep you going now that the Tribe is...well...no longer playing. I hope to do justice both emotionally and descriptively to the show as I really really enjoyed it! You can comment if you want, or just read and find new characters to connect with! ^_____^ Thank you so much for taking your time!

-K.M. Thompson

Ch 1 There's No Home: Chastity 'Chaz' and Claire

It was the sound of glass shattering that startled Chaz to life. Ordinarily she would have given a little scream--but she knew better now. Instead she pressed her hand against her little sister's mouth, and saw in the dim light that her green eyes were wide with fear. Chaz released the young girl's mouth and signaled to remain where she was before crawling out of the room and then slid along the hallway floor slowly. She could hear laughter coming from several people followed by something crashing and closed her eyes briefly. She was upstairs and from what she could tell, the people downstairs were raiding the broken fridge. Maybe they'd leave...but she couldn't take the chance. Carefully, she crawled back to the far back room where she and her sister had been sleeping.

"Chastity?" Her sister's whisper was filled with fear and Chaz smiled even as she grabbed their backpacks and began stuffing the blanket they'd been sharing in it.

"We have to go Claire."

"But we just got--"

"Not now Claire. Do you want to get caught? Remember what happened to Denni and Kim? Do you want to end up like them?"

Tears filled Claire's eyes as she shook her head, and Chaz smiled grimly. She hated using scare tactics, but it was the only thing that seemed to work with her sister.

"Then grab your pack and lets go."

"But how do we get past them?"

She wished Claire wouldn't ask so many questions. Shrugging on her pack she opened the window and looked down. There was a drain pipe that looked sturdy enough to support them.

"We go down. I'll go first and you follow okay?"

"I'm scared of hights!" Her sister's voice almost grew loud and Chaz put a finger to her lips.

"So am I, but I'm doing it. And you can too. Remember Denni and Kim, Claire."

Keeping it in mind herself, Chaz hesitated as her hand connected with the cold metal pipe. She really didn't like hights; but she hated the idea of dying more. Easing her body down the pipe she smiled. It was still sound. She motioned for Claire to follow and after a few seconds the nine year old followed her sister. Chaz gave her a thumbs up and began to climb down again and had almost reached jumping distance when something large crashed through the window near her on the first floor.

"Hey! Watch where you're throwing that! We might need it!"

A girl--probably around seventeen from the looks of it--stuck her head out the window, her dark skin taking on a golden appearance from all flashlights down stairs. Looking down, Chaz saw a chair lying broken on the lawn, and held her breath, hoping the girl wouldn't look up.

"Kare, get in here, I found us a bed!"

"Oh please, like I'd ever share a bed with you!"

The girl disappeared and the two sisters quickly finished their descent on the drain pipe. Pausing, Chaz took a leg from the broken chair and her sister copied her before they jumped over the broken fence and headed down the mangled streets of suburbia. Claire clutched to her hand and Chaz kept her eyes open, raising the makeshift club in her hand every time something rustled. The streets she used to ride her bike down and hang out with her friends were now filled with litter, dead bodies, and broken equipment. The houses that were once people's homes were now the playground of bands of kids, 'tribes' the liked to call themselves.

"Chaz, I'm tired. I want to sleep. Can't we just stay in one of these houses?"

"No. If there's one group here, then more will come. The woods will have to be safe for now."

"I hate the woods." muttered Claire as she dragged her club, "They've got bugs in them. And what if a bear eats us?"

"There ARE no bears in New York. Stop being so picky. We're alive aren't we? Now come one, we're almost there."

Grateful for the silence--even if it was a sulking one--Chaz led her sister into the woods that backed several homes. There were no sounds save for crickets and frogs, and they found a slightly cleared spot by a stream to call home for the night. Claire was too tired to argue about the dampness of the ground as she snuggled against her sister, and quickly fell asleep. Chaze looked up into the canopy of black leaves. The stars were brighter now that there weren't any lights, and the air was cleaner.

'Some consolation.'

Closing her eyes Chaz thought of her life before the virus. It had only been a little over half a year, but the world as she knew it had changed forever; and drastically. Once upon a time she had lived in a suburb fifteen minutes out of New York City, and life had been good. She'd had a mom and dad she couldn't complain about, friends that she did everything with, and even an annoying sister to complete the deal. And then that virus...that stupid virus from New Zeland. They'd said it was contained, to not worry about it. How wrong they were. Weeks later nearly half of the adults had died in America. Chastity had sat holding her mother's hand, listening to her mother's last dying words of what to do; of where to go.

'Chastity, I know your young...but you have to take care of your sister, I know you can do it. If you can...go as far away from the city as you can alright? Don't stay here. If...' She'd started to sound weak and whispery. Even her voice began to sound like the wind

'If there are no more adults...there will be a lot of chaos. Take your sister and run towards the hills. Any place without too many people. Do...do You understand Chastity?'

She had been able to do nothing more than nod her head and cry. Her mom died a few minutes later and Chastity had to say, it was not the best present for her 15th birthday. A snapping sound broke Chaz out of her daze and she looked around. There was no other sound, and she didn't feel as if they were being watched. It was probably just a bird. Shakily she took out their blanket and wrapped it around them, glad for at least that little comfort. They had stayed in the suburbs too long and it was long past time they leave, just as their mother had told them to.

Looking down at her little sister Chaz wondered about the wisdom of her mother's words. They were only kids themselves, and she could barely survive living in the suburbs. What made her think she could survive the woods? Claire hated green things whether she was near them or eating them, and bugs DID seem to like to eat her alive. Running a hand through her golden brown hair Chaz sighed. She didn't know what to do...and no one could tell her what to do from here. If this was growing up, she hated it.

'Tomorrow we'll head for New England. There's probably no one there...and I bet there are a lot more houses that aren't beat up like here.'

Feeling a bit more in control now that she had a plan, Chaz fell asleep, where dreams from her past floated in and reminded her of better times and left her unprepared for the future that would soon await her.


	2. Chapter 2

Welcome back to a second chapter! As you've probably seen in the tribe, characters ran into each other but the camera often followed several characters at once until the met at the mall. In keeping with this theme, this chapter will follow two more characters before the meeting. Thank you for being patient and I hope you all enjoy reading this second installment! It's a bit longer than the last, as this focuses on two characters. Cheers!

-K.M. Thompson

Ch. 2 Ties That Bind: Joyce and Diem

If there was one thing Joyce hated, it was the rain. Not because it meant she couldn't go outside, but because it always reminded her of the day her parents had died from the virus. Truthfully she had never loved them; but she hadn't really hated them either. After all, how could she miss some one when they were never around? Her mother had always been busy researching in her hospital and her father had spent most of his time in Washington defending politicians who were trying to cover their tracks through highly paid lawyers like himself. She grimaced as she remembered once more the last conversation she'd had with her mother before she'd died.

'_Joyce, I assume you've been watching the news?' _

'_Yes, mother." Really she'd spending most of her time painting since the rain had ceased to let up for the past three days. Joyce flipped on the TV anyways, because she knew her mother would be listening to the background. God she hated when her mother called._

'_Then you know that I don't have much time left. The virus is spreading much faster than anticipated…and we haven't found a cure quite yet. I need you to make sure the penthouse is locked up alright?'_

_Joyce stared at the phone in complete shock, and then stared at the TV. In a red ribbon on the bottom of the screen words flashed in capital letters asking for the evacuation of all adults, and instead of her regular art program, it had been taken over by the news, where the news casters look more terrified than the people they were interviewing. _

'…_the carpet. Joyce? Are you listening to me?'_

'_Sorry, the news was on. Are they evacuating kids too?' _

'_I have no idea. But you need to make sure the penthouse is locked up. My diamonds are there. The spare key is under the carpet by the door, remember?' _

'_Yes, I remember.' She knew her tone was snappy, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Wasn't her mom worried about her? Didn't she care that the air was filled with a virus and she might catch it if she left to check on their precious apartment? _

'_Mother, does the virus affect everyone?'_

'_They won't say. It's all being kept under wraps and it's becoming exceedingly vexing. Now listen, it's very important that you hide your father's stocks. God knows who will try and steal them if we die. And make sure that you get—" _

_Her mother's voice was cut off as Joyce pressed then 'end' button on her cell phone. Slowly, still in shock, she sat down on the couch, trying to wrap her mind around the images that seemed burned into her eyes. The virus that everyone had said was nothing more than a hoax...Joyce looked to the TV again and turned the volume up when she heard her phone ring. With growing horror she watched the images of adults as they were shuttled off onto trains, and men and women in white suits were leading them through plastic lined halls. The reporter was crying and telling his children he loved them as he himself was loaded into the hallway lined with plastic. The last thing she heard as she left was her cell phone ringing and the insistent pounding of rain on the windows. _

The dull clap of thunder overhead brought Joyce back to the present and to the reality of her life. She looked around herself and smiled a bit grimly. The concrete cellar under an old building already looted and damaged by teens was a far cry from the massive and airy penthouse she'd been living in. She'd covered the walls with shimmering fabric she'd found in an abandoned apartment and furnished it with a used mattress and several plastic lawn chairs. Thanks to a backup generator, Christmas lights kept the place cheerfully lit, making her feel more at home than she had anywhere else.

Almost a week after she'd gone to the penthouse that resided on the 89th floor all of the adults were dead, and the teens and children ran through the streets of New York in unfettered chaos. Buildings were picked apart and smashed, and Joyce watched from the large wall of windows as the bodies of kids and teens alike were left in the streets in the aftermath of the screaming and yelling. When the older teenagers had gotten a hold of guns she closed the blinds and kept them that way until they ringing shots and screaming had subsided. After that she'd left the apartment with several bags of nessessities and clothing. She left her mother's diamonds.

"I need some air."

As usual, no one responded to her answer and Joyce sighed. She might not have liked being in a crowded city, but she missed the simple pleasure of walking down the bustling streets without fearing for her life or talking to the few people she'd considered friends. Shrugging into the a thick thigh length black coat that she'd taken from her mother's closet, Joyce looked into the mirror she'd salvaged that rested on the table across from the bed. Her dyed black hair was still cut in its sleek 1920's bob that was given a modern edge thanks to the side bangs, and her slender face contained the usual slightly full lips and rich brown eyes that tilted upwards ever so slightly.

Slinging her leather side bag onto her shoulder she used for picking up items she might find, Joyce opened the metal door that kept the rest of the world away. It look heavy and broken, of which it was neither. Trudging up the two flights of stairs Joyce was pleased to note that it had stopped raining, however the clouds hung low in the sky, hiding the tops of sky scrapers and throwing a hazy gray mist around the rest of city, making it appear more dismal than it already was. It would probably rain again soon, and if it was heavy enough, she could take a shower in it. She was about two miles out of Main Street, just out of interest to most of the kids who had formed tribes and stayed in the inner city and fought amongst themselves. Shifting her bag on her shoulder she began to walk towards the stores she knew still held paints and paper. The scavenging yielded fair results and she would be able to paint a lot more than she had thought.

Picking her way through the trash she started to exit through a hole in the wall when she heard a noise coming from the ally to her right. Freezing she quickly pressed herself against the wall and listened, her heart pounding and her hair standing up on the nape of her neck. She heard the sound again, and recognized it as metallic sounding; and it was followed by a groan. Joyce closed her eyes. She had to go. If someone was hurt then that meant the attackers could come back…_would_ come back, and there was no way she was going to get caught up in any tribe war. Pushing away from the wall, Joyce began to make her way once more through the hole, the rain finally starting to come down.

"Help me...s-someone…please help."

Joyce paused and then groaned. The voice sounded young and in pain.

'_Just walk away Joyce, there's no reason to help anyone. You know you can't just take in any poor kid you feel sorry for.'_

"Please…someone…"

"Dammit." Stomping her foot Joyce whirled around and headed for the ally. She was tired of not helping; of watching small children wander the streets too tired and starving and scared to even talk. She could afford one. She could take care of _one_ at least. Her senses on hyper drive, Joyce crept down the ally, keeping as close to the wall as possible and searching for any signs of people hiding. Keeping her hand to on the knife she'd tucked into the jeans, Joyce narrowed her eyes through the mist and caught sight of a red shoe protruding out from behind a trash bin.

Seeing that the coast was clear, Joyce walked around to the side of the trash bin and looked down to see a boy badly beaten and nearly unconscious. His clothing was torn and bloody, his face streaked with dirt and scratches; not to mention bruises that looked like they were already swelling on his cheek and head. His black hair was matted and though he didn't look to be too old, it was hard to guess his age. Hesitantly she kneeled next to him and tore off the remains of his shredded shirt. He moaned but didn't complain or try to stop her, and Joyce tried as quickly as possible to check for broken bones. His arms and legs were fine, but when she made for his ribs his hand grabbed her wrist, startling her. Black eyes filled with pain looked into her and he shook his head, his lips pursed.

"Broken…a-a metal bat…"

'_Poor kid can't be any older than ten or eleven.' _

Joyce looked down at his ribs and noticed they were swelling and already dark. There was nothing she could do here to help him.

"I'm going to help you up, but its going to hurt. Nod if you understand."

The boy's face was scrunched in a grimace, but he nodded his head, screaming hoarsely as she pulled him to his feet.

"Shhh! I know it hurts, but you don't want them to come back do you? Stay as quiet as you can. I live about ten minutes from here. Do you think you can make it?"

Again the boy nodded his head and Joyce carefully put his arm around her waist. The rain that had started as a light rain was growing steadily worse. Next to her the boy's breath came out in hissing puffs. The ten minute walk took much longer than she though due to his slow pace, and by the time she got them both down the two flights of stairs, she understood now how the expression 'like a drowned rat' came about. Setting him on her bed Joyce stripped the wet clothes from his body and covered him with several blankets before locking the metal door and changing into dry clothes herself. Feeling warmer and infinitely safer, Joyce walked over to the boy to get a better look at him.

His skin was darker, and he was lanky in build, and judging from his slight accent when he'd spoken, she'd say he was Indian; or perhaps Indonesian. His cuts were very deep—lucky for him—and in the light his bruises weren't as dark and large as they had looked in the ally. Gently she peeled the blankets back and sucked in her breath. His skin was almost purple around his lower ribs.

"Sorry about this kid."

Knowing it would hurt no matter how careful she was, Joyce ran her fingers along his ribs to see how severe the breaks were. The boy cried out several times, making Joyce wince. His ribs weren't broken she noted with relief, but they were cracked. She could deal with cracked ribs—she hadn't been neatly groomed to become the next prominent doctor by her mother for nothing. Getting out the bandages and antiseptic she kept in a trunk, Joyce cleaned his wounds and bound his ribs. The boy groaned, but never cried, and Joyce to admit he was being a pretty brave guy. She thought about feeding him, but knew he would be too exhausted and sick to really keep anything down.

'_Tomorrow is as good a time as any. And then we'll get some answer out of him.' _

_*** _

The first thing Diem realized was that he wasn't dead. The second was that he was in severe pain. Opening bleary eyes he frowned as his gaze came into focus. He wasn't in an ally way anymore, which he supposed was good—unless it meant he'd been dragged away and was going to be tortured later. He tried to sit up but it felt as if someone was squeezing his lungs and the world spun around.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, kid. You've a got a couple of cracked ribs and a bruise on your head. How are you feeling?"

Diem turned his head to the sound of a girl's voice and was more than startled to see a girl sitting in a chair, a cup of—was that tea?—in her hands.

"Fine…I think…" His voice came out harsh and raspy, and he tried to cough to clear his throat.

"Here, I got you some tea. It's not great, but it's better than nothing."

Diem accepted the cup, and winced as she helped prop him against the wall with pillows. Looking around he felt like he'd found a small oasis. Everything was so neat and clean…although it did smell a lot like paint. And judging from the canvases lining the walls, he'd guess she was the one painting them. Diem looked down at his ribs, which were bound with linen. His face felt like a thousand needles were stinging in it. The girl seemed to understand because she gave him a smile that made her look much more approachable.

"You're going to be in a little pain for about a week. Your ribs will probably take two or three though. What's your name, anyway? I've been calling you 'kid' for the past two days."

"Two days!?"

"You had a pretty high fever, and a good lump on your head. Its pretty natural forget things like time. Your name?"

"Oh. Right." Diem frowned and took a sip of the tea. It was cold. Figured. "My name is Diem. It…it used to be Dexter but my dad…."

"I understand. Its better to forget the past any ways. We won't get it back. I'm Joyce by the way. You can call me Joy if you want." He watched her fiddle with her cup and then took a sip of his own.

"So…where are you from Diem? You have an accent."

"I'm from here, but dad…he was from India. How about you?"

"Born and raised right here in the Big Apple. Why is it I found you left for dead in the ally?"

For a moment Diem saw the faces that had sneered at him, the matted hair, the blood on their clothes, and the markings. He wished he'd blacked out before he'd been surrounded.

"I was on my way out of the city, and I got caught by this gang wearing red bandan—"

"The Bulls. They're pretty nasty. Your lucky your alive."

"I guess so. If you call living in this city lucky."

"You can say that again. Where you going to go?"

Diem looked at Joyce over the rim of his cup, wondering how much he could trust her. For all he knew she could be part of a tribe as well. But she didn't look like she belonged to one; she didn't have markings and there were no signs of anyone else living here. But there was something in her eyes, the way she held herself, like she could see your every thought. Like she cared. Diem finished the rest of the tea quickly; he hated cold tea.

"I was heading anywhere there weren't tribes. The country side, if I can. I know how to plant things, and I have a bag full of seed packets to get me started. My dad…he, um…he was a lawyer for environmentalists and I got to talk with a lot of them. I learned a lot…I was going to be a lawyer too, and help my dad. But then…"

The image of his father's smiling face came unwanted, and Diem felt the hot sting of tears. He missed him so much. He missed their late night conversations, the days they went hiking, the days when he watched his father valiantly defend the rights of conservationists. He didn't realize he was crying until he felt Joyce's arms circle gently around his shoulders and he was too upset to feel embarrassed. Had it really only been six months? It felt like years ago. He wished his dad were here. He would've known what to do. After several minutes Diem pulled away, and Joyce reciprocated, sitting back down on her chair. Rubbing his eyes with the cloth she'd offered him he wondered how old she was. She acted a lot like an adult…but she couldn't be.

"I'm sorry. I just…"

"Don't worry about it. Its hard on a lot of people, there's nothing to apologize for. So you're going to be farmer huh? That's a pretty nice thing to be right now. I never really thought about leaving the city…"

Joyce's words trailed off and she looked as if she were staring at some distant land. Diem recalled it was the same look his father would get whenever he was thinking about a new angle to use in court. While Joyce was lost in her thoughts Diem looked over at the mirror laying against the wall. His skin had lost some of its color so that he looked more of light brown, and it brought out his black hair and black almond shaped eyes. Scratches were on his face and a few bruises. He felt a bit better though, knowing that his wounds weren't as bad as he'd thought.

"Diem…I have a question for you."

"Sure."

"Would it be alright if I joined you? I don't know how much longer I could live in this city before I was caught and I don't want to be forced into a tribe. I've never seen anything green other than the plants in Central Park, but I have a ridiculous amount of medical knowledge."

"I thought you were an artist. You know…all the paintings." Diem swung his arm around the room and Joyce smiled.

"I am an artist. My mother just never got the memo. She was determined that I would be the prodigy child doctor she always wanted. I can help you if you get cut or infected…and I can barter my services if we run into trouble."

"Well…"

"Take a few days to think about it. We're safe here as far as I know. Get some rest and try and heal up."

Diem nodded his head and closed his eyes, his mind whirling with ideas, doubts, and thoughts. Over the course of the next few weeks he found that Joyce wasn't nearly as silent as he'd thought she was. She was always talking or joking around with him—mainly to cheer him up, he could tell—and she wasn't a half bad cook. She was seventeen and had been about to graduate from one the top schools in New York, which surprised him. She was so laid back and unpretentious it was hard to imagine her ever going to a preppy school. To his eleven year old eyes, she was the first real adult like figure he'd met. And with that came security. She was older…she would know what to do if something bad happened.

On the third week he found he could walk without his ribs hurting, though he was a little weak from being confined for so long. Joyce had gone out earlier to retrieve his bag which he'd hidden under the trash bin, and after he'd rifted through it to make sure the seeds were there he realized that he could go. He could leave and she wouldn't stop him. Diem looked over at Joyce, who was busy painting a picture, her hair a little disheveled and silver earrings dangling. Diem suddenly realized he'd never seen her without them on.

"Joyce?"

"Yeah?" She answered him with a distracted voice, and he hoped she wasn't so focused he didn't hear him.

"Do you…did you really mean what you said, about wanting to join me?"

Her brush paused mid stroked and she looked over her shoulder, an eye brow raised and a half smile on her lips.

"Of course. You know I wouldn't say something unless I mean it."

"I know…." She was the only family he had now. And he was tired of being alone. "I…if you want…you could come with me."

"And miss out on fresh air and a life without tribes? I was ready for that two months ago."

"Then we should leave soon." He could feel the pulse of excitement, and the breath he'd been holding along with his fears that she would refuse melted away. He'd made the right decision.

"We'll leave in the middle of the day…the tribes are usually sleeping by then. Any particular day you want to leave?"

"The sooner the better. Maybe in a couple of days."

"Sounds good to me." Joyce stretched and set her brush down before looking down at him.

"And where is it you want to head to? The south is a bad bet…probably all sorts of crazies there. Well…crazier than normal any ways."

Diem smiled and then chewed on his thumb nail as he thought. He didn't want to be near any major cities where tribes might have formed.

"New England."

"New England? Why?"

"There won't be a lot of people there, I'm sure of it. Its too cold and far away for people to want to leave the big cities. But its great for farming—the soil there is really rich. And there would be tons of abandoned farms and houses stuff too probably…"

"Then we'll leave tomorrow afternoon. How does that sound? There isn't much keeping us here is there?"

"Not really…"

"Tomorrow then."

"Yeah…tomorrow."

Diem watched as Joyce smiled and took a swig of water, and for the first time since he'd watched his father pass away, Diem felt hope begin to stir in him again. Things were finally starting to look up…and he wouldn't be alone any more. Perhaps the future wasn't so doomed after all.

Perhaps.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! Welcome to the long waited chapter three! I hope you've been enjoying the story thus far, it should start pick up a little speed now that I have some of the characters set up! Hopefully the previous chapters have been enough to tide you all over! Until then, please feel free to review. Here's a hint: The more reviews I get the more it makes me want to write! Cheers!

Ch.3 Just Another Day in Paradise

"I'm tiiiirrrreeed!"

Claire's voice rose to an annoying pitch and Chaz's hands itched to smack her little sister upside the head. True, they'd been walking since eight that morning, but they hadn't walked very fast, and Chaz had made sure they both got a decent meal. Apparently that wasn't good enough. First it had been that her shoes hurt, then it had been that she was scared they'd get caught, and then that she was hungry.

"I _said_," Claire's voice began to get shrill, "I'm TIRED!"

"Shut-_up_!"

Whirling around Chaz grabbed her little sister's arm and hauled her forward, gravel skittering around them. The little girl blanched and gave a small cry as her arm was wrenched. With wide, teary eyes she looked into the angry green ones of her sister.

"What is _wrong_ with you Claire!? Do you want us to get caught? Do you want to die?"

"N-no, but—"

"No buts!" ignoring the look of pain, Chaz glared down at her sister and hissed quietly. "If you scream any louder you'll wake _some_one up, and then what will you do, complain to them?"

"I…I just—"

"You just _what_ Claire? Weren't thinking? You _never_ think!"

Letting go of her sister's arm Chastity took an angry breath and stepped away, running a hand through her hair. Around them birds chirped and the beautiful green-gold leaves of the urban forest that backed the housing track held little beauty. She was too tired; not to mention starving. But she had to be the adult. Her mom never yelled at them. Taking a deep breath Chaz turned around to face her sister once more. Her sister was sitting on the jogger trail, sniffing and rubbing her arm. Her braided hair had become unruly and several strands of dark brown hair hung in front of her face. Slowly, her tennis shoes crunching under twigs and gravel, Chastity walked to her sister and hunched down.

"I'm sorry Claire—I didn't mean it. Look, I'm tired too alright?"

Claire said nothing, but she stopped sniffing and Chastity smiled comfortingly, keeping her voice gentle.

"How about this; we walk till we get around the corner and then we can stop and eat some food alright? We're almost out of the city any ways, and then we'll be on our way to the highway. Okay?"

"Okay."

Standing up Chastity helped her sister to her feet and then held her hand, glad that they had both let out some steam. Why couldn't she keep her temper? It seemed like all she ever did was yell at her sister these days; and she didn't mean to. She hadn't been liked this before the virus. Before, she got annoyed by Claire sure, but never to the extent that she felt now.

_From now on, I'm going to think before I speak._

"Chaz?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we gonna do when we get to New England?"

"I dunno." Chaz shifted the bag on her shoulder and looked strait ahead. They were almost to the bend in the road, which would lead to the street that connected to the freeway. Because no one maintained the trees and green belts, the world around them seemed wilder, more untamed…unsafe. It felt as if the very trees that were around them were trapping them, keeping them from freedom.

"We'll find a place and live there."

"But what will we eat? What if there's other kids there?"

"They're probably a lot nice than the ones here."

"Aww, now that's not a nice thing to say."

Claire gave a small scream at the sound of the new voice coming from behind them and Chaz shoved her behind her. From behind the trees a small group crawled out, their hair greasy, faces dirty, their clothes tattered, and from what she could tell, they didn't smell to clean either. Two boys and one girl smiled at them in a non too pleasant manner, they're teeth yellowed from lack of brushing. Chaz thought she would puke.

"Wh-Who are you?" Her voice shook, and she took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of us?" The boy speaking was perhaps a year older than Chastity herself, but his shifting eyes warned her that he was a lot tougher than his age allowed. He laughed at her silence and swung the metal bat in his hand with ease.

"We're the Cannibal Tribe. And _you_ sweet thing," he licked his cracked lips while the others snickered and edged closer, "are on _my_ terf."

"Well we're leaving it. We're not with a tribe or anything, and we don't have anything so…so just leave us alone."

For every step Chaz began to make, the others followed suit, looking at them with hungry, slightly fanatical eyes. Eyes that almost didn't look human, and she wondered if maybe they really were cannibals. Behind her Claire whimpered and clutched at her jacket. Whatever happened, she couldn't let them hurt her sister.

"You're not with any one? Then you should join us."

"Yeah…Jimmy here's been looking for a girl." The other boy who looked even worse than the first boy smiled, his face riddled with pimples. She tried not to look.

"No thank you. Just leave us alone."

"Did you hear that guys, she said no!" The group laughed and Jimmy tapped his bat in his hand. "No one says no to Jimmy, baby. Not even pretty girls like you. Lets teach 'em a lesson."

Claire's scream was cut short however, by an even louder yell, and the small advancing group stopped short to see their fearless leader bleeding from his right hand, two fingers missing and a knife lodged into the ground near his foot.

"Touch them, and you'll lose more than fingers."

From above the soft voice seemed surreal, and Chaz looked around, trying to discern where it was coming from.

"You _bitch_!!" Jimmy looked above, searching the canopy for any signs of movement, his eyes darting wildly and slight unfocused. "Show your face!"

There was a soft flurry and from a tree near Chastity a girl landed from a low hanging branch. She was older than all of them—and tall. Her black leather boots made hardly any noise on the ground, and her dark jeans, brown shirt, and brown jacket had kept her well hidden. Her black hair was bobbed and silver hooped earrings dangled from her ears.

"Who the hell are you!?" This question was posed by the Cannibal girl, her garish purple lips curled back in a snarl. Their rescuer barely looked fazed and she withdrew another knife, the blade gleaming in the sun.

"Who I am," her voice was soft, and some how sounded more threatening that Jimmy's guttural voice, "is none of your business. Now I suggest you leave these two alone before I make your friend's hands a matching pair."

No one moved. Chaz used the opportunity to inch her way closer to the girl with black hair, her sister making her process slow. The air was thick with tension, so thick she could barely breath. The girl with the horrible make up mad a small sound in the back of her throat while Jimmy clutched his hand and began rocking. Chaz cast a glance at the boy, and saw that his skin was pale beneath the grim and his face was contorted into a look of shock, as if he was just realizing what had happened to him. She wondered if he'd ever really been in a fight before.

"C'mon guys, let's go. They're not worth it."

The girl with purple lips smiled a nasty smile, and the two other boys took hold of Jimmy and began to drag him away. The girl hissed at them, barring her yellow teeth as she began to edge to the tangled hedges that her friends had departed from.

"If we see your ugly faces here again, we'll rip them off."

Chaz held her breath until the last sounds of snapping branches stopped. Behind her Claire clung to her jacket and trembled. Slowly, the sound of birds filled her ears once more, and the feeling that time had stopped faded away, speeding everything forward almost too quickly. Chaz looked up at the tall girl who stood slightly behind her, not sure of what to do. She didn't _look_ like she belonged to a tribe—she was a lot cleaner than the other ones—and she was alone. Or at least, she looked alone.

"Um…Thank you for—for rescuing us."

"Don't mention it." The girl looked at them and seemed to be weighing them, messureing. It reminded her of what her teachers looked like right before they passed back the tests you knew you were going to fail.

"What are you two doing here any ways? It's dangerous to be near track homes—a lot of tribes live here."

"I know. We were passing through. We're leaving though."

"Leaving for where?"

The question came from another voice, and Chaz gasped as she grabbed Claire. A boy who looked to be a few years younger than herself slunk out from behind a tree. He was lanky, like he was going through a growth spurt or something, and almost as tall she was. He walked over to the girl, standing next to her in an unmistakable sign of solidarity. The black haired girl suddenly smiled, it was small, but it was filled with comfort, with understanding.

"Look, we don't mean to interrogate you. I'm Joyce, and this is Diem. What are your names?"

"I'm Claire." Claire poked her head out, looking up at their savior with a small smile of her own.

"And that's my sister, Chastity. But everyone calls her Chaz. Well…they used to."

Sometimes she wished she could muzzle her sister. But much to her surprise, Joyce kneeled down and offered her hand solemnly to her sister. Diem looked like how Chaz felt; awkward.

"It's nice to meet you Claire." She looked up at Chastity then. "If you don't mind me asking, where_ are_ you heading?"

"We're going to New England."

She spoke before she thought, but for some reason she didn't regret it. Joyce's head shot up and then her body followed. She studied her through slightly narrowed brown eyes and then looked over at Diem, who put his hands up in a defensive gesture.

"Come on Joyce, they'll only slow us down."

"Slow _you_ down!?" Chaz felt her cheeks grow warm and she took a step forward. "That's a laugh! Why would we slow—"

"No one is slowing any one down." Joyce cut in, her voice firm and controlled. "As it happens, we're heading to New England too. If you want, you can join us until you find a place you want to stay at. Right Diem?"

"Whatever you say." Diem looked unhappy about the offer, but didn't contradict her. Chaz bit her lip, studying the two carefully while Claire walked over to Joyce, something akin to awe in her eyes.

What to do? Joyce had saved their lives, and they looked pretty nice. And she was older, and seemed like she knew a lot more about how to defend herself. Chaz stole a glance at Diem. He was young, but his eyes said he'd been around the block more than a few times. But travel with complete strangers? She didn't know if her mom would approve. But her mom had also told her to follow her instincts, and her instincts said that these two were good guys. That it would be safe to travel with them.

Shaking her thoughts away Chaz realized Joyce was looking at her again. Studying her and looking like she already knew her answer. She said it any way.

"As long as we don't slow you down," She shot a small glare at Diem, "Then I would like to take you up on your offer."

Joyce smiled at her and offered her hand.

"We'd love to have you along."


End file.
